Final Fantasy VI The Two Empires
by Tritoch
Summary: 23 years after Kefka's defeat, the World of Ruin has finally reordered itself and established political stability. But there are rumors of fanatics still loyal to the old Empire in the south... Second chapter is up, it's the end of the semester so I shoul
1. Chapter 1 Meeting in Figaro

Edgar sighed quietly, but grinned nonetheless as he looked in the mirror. The King of Figaro had grown grey over the years, no longer able to enjoy the golden locks he so loved. But it was a trivial matter to him, really – he had long ago given up his womanizing ways. After all that he'd been through in his younger years, battling alongside the Returners to defeat Kefka, Edgar had come to realize that he had more important concerns in life.

One such concern was politics, and that was something that had grown greatly in importance over the years. When the statues were realigned years ago, the entire face of the world was changed, and cities and kingdoms that were once together found themselves split apart. Once Kefka had finally been defeated, one of the first and most difficult tasks that the world had been presented with was to reorganize its political structure.

Edgar had, naturally, remained at the head of Figaro, with South Figaro just on the other side of their continent and under his direct rule. Kohlingen, Zozo, and Jidoor had all become protectorate states of Figaro, maintaining their local sovereignty while still remaining subordinate to Figaro's rule. Doma had expanded outward to include the port of Nikeah, and a few small, scattered villages along Serpent's Trench. Narshe, far north, had remained an independent city, content to stay back against the mountains and keep to themselves for the most part. Thamasa, far isolated from any other territory, had chosen to do the same.

The most notable change in world politics had certainly been the formation of the Southern Union out of the former Imperial territories. Tzen, Albrook, and Miranda banded together to form a single government after Kefka's defeat, functioning as a republic of sorts. Each city saw to its own local administration, but all three were subject to the authority of an elected Chairman who held ultimate power over the government.

Twice a year, the leaders of the three main world powers – King Edgar of Figaro, King Cyan of Doma, and Chairman Delaz of the Southern Union – met in council to discuss pertinent political issues, negotiate trade agreements and treaties, and ensure strong relations between their three governments.

It was for that semi-annual meeting that Edgar found himself at his mirror, carefully tending to his appearance. In just a few short moments, Chairman Delaz and King Cyan would arrive, and Edgar wouldn't settle to look anything short of impeccably professional before his peers.

"Maybe, my lord," the Chancellor chided from behind Edgar, "You should spend less time worrying about your hair and spend a little more time greeting your colleagues… Oh yes, they've arrived by the way." The old Chancellor smirked and gestured toward Edgar's chamber doors, which were promptly pulled open by a pair of guards.

"Twenty-some years later and I'm still taking orders from an old man," Edgar returned with his own sly smirk.

"May I remind you, sire, that you're an 'old man' now as well?"

"Well put," the king replied, "But I'll decline to comment. After all, I do have guests to attend to, don't I?" He chuckled once more and passed through the doors, making his way up the side tower and over to the main grounds of the castle.

Down by the castle's main entrance, he could see six figures being let in by the guards. The first ones to come through were led by the unmistakeable man who was Edgar's close friend, King Cyan Garamonde. Like all of his comrades, Cyan had gotten older, but he was by far the elder of the group. Now ripe into his seventies, Cyan still carried the same commanding presence Edgar had always known him to. His katana hung from his waist as it ever did, and his hair, now a salt-and-pepper arrangement, was pulled into his usual long ponytail. Really, save for a few extra wrinkles and a thinner frame, very little had changed about Doma's king. On either side, he was flanked by a pair of Doma's Royal Guardsmen, each armed with a smaller katana and standing proud beside their monarch.

"Cyan!" Edgar greeted him from a distance, walking swiftly down the main stairs to shake his friend's hand and share a brief embrace. He very rarely saw Cyan outside of these political gatherings anymore, so any chance to speak with him was a welcome one.

"Edgar," Cyan replied, "I hope thou art well… I have been eager to see thee again."

"Same to you," Edgar said back to him, "I hardly get to see you these days.. But no news is good news, right? I'm sure things are going well in Doma."

"Thou art right," said Cyan, smiling broadly, "We are prospering like never before… I trust Figaro has been treated just as well by these past months?"

"Of course, of course," Edgar took a step back from Cyan, "But we'll save this for later. I'd be awfully rude if I didn't greet my good friend Chairman Delaz." He smiled and shook the Chairman's hand.

"It's good to see you again," Delaz said, matching Edgar's smile, "I'm glad to see you in such good spirits." He withdrew his hand, and then fell into step with Edgar and Cyan as they walked back toward the royal hall, leaving both men's escourts behind. Delaz was clearly the tallest of the three, a well-built black man whose presence and stature demanded respect. His hair was short and spiked, his entire body toned admirably, and bulked out just a little from muscle. A rather heavy broadsword hung from his right hip, though he rarely ever drew the mostly ceremonial blade.

"It's hard not to be in good spirits," commented Edgar, climbing the stairs toward the heavy doors at the top, held open by two Figaro soldiers, "Things have been so peaceful over the years… Ever since Kefka was killed, we've been able to enjoy calmer lives."

"Very true," Delaz said with a knowing nod, "We can all thank both of you for that. It's no small feat, what you did, and I've always admired that."

"It was a duty," said Cyan, "I could not have lived with myself had I not done what I could… Thy praise is appreciated, but I take no glory for it."

"Always so modest," teased Edgar, "I thought after all these years that you'd finally get over that whole 'humble servant' attitude and start giving yourself some more credit."

"Edgar, thou know-"

"I know, I know, forget about it…" Edgar just laughed a little and ushered the two through the door, to the meeting hall. A rectangular wooden table sat in the middle of the room, and already the observers from Figaro's protectorate states, as well as Narshe, were present. Edgar took his seat at the table's head, with Cyan to one side and Delaz to the other.

"Now then," said Edgar, raising his voice to attract attention, "Since everyone is here, let's get underway. As always, on behalf of Figaro I welcome my good friends King Cyan Garamonde of Doma, and Chairman Ronaldo Delaz of the Southern Union."

The two men nodded as their names were acknowledged.

"And before we get to our official business, I would personally like to extend my congratulations to Mr. Delaz… This year marks the 10th anniversary of the Southern Union's formation, as well as Mr. Delaz's 10th anniversary as Chairman. It took us a little over a decade to finally organize the southern cities into one union, but now that we have, I think it's quite clear that they have prospered in ways we never imagined. The Chairman, and all of his officials deserve a great deal of respect for what they've done."

"Thank you very much, sire," said Delaz, standing up with a humble nod, "As the king has said, this year is the 10th anniversary of the Southern Union. Twenty-three years ago, when Kefka was defeated, we began the process of attempting to reorganize our governmental structure. The southern cities were left leaderless after the collapse of the Empire, and it was no small task to bring them all together. It took us thirteen years just to settle upon a constitution that everyone could agree on. But now that our government has been formed, and has come together, I'm happy to say that we've enjoyed a very successful, very prosperous existence, thanks in no small part to the generous aid we received from Figaro and Doma during our earlier years."

"It was our pleasure," said Edgar with a slight grin, "So… While we're on the topic of the Southern Union, Mr. Delaz, why don't you begin our session this evening? What does the Southern Union bring to the table tonight?"

"Actually," Delaz began, "We've been dealing with a bit of instability in recent months. There's a man from Albrook by the name of Golan Saldrim who's been causing a stir lately."

"Dost thou know his motive?" asked Cyan.

"Believe it or not, the guy's an Imperial loyalist."

"So there are still some loyalists around yet," said Edgar.

"It would appear so," Delaz answered, "As you can imagine, he doesn't have a particularly large following, but it's enough to cause us some trouble here and there."

"Is there any chance he might succeed in raising a significant resistance?" asked Edgar.

"Doubtful," replied Delaz, "He has maybe fifty or a hundred men to his name at most. We've officially expelled him and all his followers from all cities in the Southern Union, so he's effectively stuck somewhere in the wilderness in the center of the continent. We've had to step up security for VIPs and trade caravans to protect against raids by his men, but aside from that, he's been pretty quiet since we kicked him out."

Edgar leaned back in his chair somewhat, a finger tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"Good… We've had our share of loyalist activity around here too over the years, but it's never amounted to much of anything. I would continue to keep an eye on him, but I don't think this is anything that will require major action."

"I agree," Delaz said, nodding. With that, he turned the floor over to Cyan and sat back in his chair.


	2. Chapter 2 Delaz's Voyage Home

The meeting had been as routine as ever, mostly a matter of formalities and reports. It was nothing that anyone was ever terribly interested in, and certainly very little of it had any real consequence to the leaders that had gathered in Figaro. But, such was diplomacy, and Chairman Delaz had simply accepted the fact that such things were necessary in a newly politicized world.

The gathering had been followed by a formal dinner, and Delaz now stood outside on the walls of Figaro Castle, taking a few reflective moments to admire the desert sunset and think in peace for awhile. He found himself doing this sort of thing very often anymore. In many ways, Delaz was very different from Edgar and Cyan. That wasn't to say that he felt distanced or unaccepted, but he acknowledged that he was in a unique position among the world's leaders.

Figaro and Doma were long-standing kingdoms that had stood the tests of time and prospered for centuries. Delaz's Southern Union wasn't even half a century old, and he was its first leader. Maybe the cities of the Union had been free at some point, long before the iron-fisted occupation of the Empire; but if they had been, it had been so long ago that nobody even knew about it. For the people of Tzen, Albrook, and Miranda, sovereignty was something still new and exciting. It was uncharted territory, which they were eager to explore.

Every time Delaz found himself at these international summits, he couldn't help but feel a certain sense of pride. He had lived through the latter days of Gestahl's Empire, and had witnessed the ravaging of the world at Kefka's hands. He could still remember watching Kefka's Light of Judgement descend on Miranda and scorch the city beyond recognition. Delaz knew full well the variety of hardships the people of the south had endured, and it filled him with both pride and joy that they now enjoyed a free and peaceful existence. Smiling, he let his left hand rest on the hilt of his sword, hanging from his hip in a heavy leather scabbard.

"After all these years," he said to himself, "Swords are finally just another formality."

"Let's hope it stays that way," Edgar answered him with a smile. The king emerged at a calm pace from the doors behind Delaz, and quietly walked over to stand beside him.

"We fought long and hard to win this peace," Edgar continued, joining the chairman in gazing out at the sunset, "We'd all love to see it last."

"Kefka destroyed the Empire, and the Returners destroyed Kefka," Delaz said in a soft tone, "Our two greatest enemies are just names in the history books now."

"That's a dangerous way of thinking, Chairman," Edgar calmly scolded his friend, "Things are never quite so simple."

"You think someone else will step up where Kefka left off?"

"I'm not saying that," the king sighed, "But allowing yourself to believe that nothing bad will happen is one of the best ways to ensure that it does. Kefka and Gestahl are both gone, yes… But people are greedy, you know. Sooner or later, someone will start to get hungry for power again, it's inevitable. We can enjoy our peace, but we always have to be aware that it could end at any moment, and we have to remain alert to try and prevent that."

"That seems so… Pessimistic."

"I suppose it does. I don't mean to dampen your spirits, Chairman, not at all. I feel the same way you do, really – I'm eager to live out the rest of my days in peace." Edgar chuckled softly. "I'm an old man now, anyway. I'm not the sword-swinging Returner I was back then. I'd like to think I've earned a peaceful retirement."

"No, I suppose you're right," replied Delaz, turning to face Edgar, "If we really want to enjoy this peace, we need to be vigilant. You and the Returners earned it for us; now it's up to our generation to maintain it."

"I don't imagine that responsibility could be in better hands." Edgar's calm grin turned into a warm smile, and he reached out and clasped Delaz's hand in a firm shake.

"But you should be getting to your ship, shouldn't you? You've got quite a trip back to the capital in Albrook."

"I suppose I should," agreed Delaz, releasing the king's hand, "Thank you as always for your hospitality… And your kind words."

"I didn't say anything I didn't mean," said Edgar, keeping his smile, "When you're ready, I'll have our guards show you to the gates. I hope I'll hear from you soon." With one final grin and nod, Edgar turned from Delaz and disappeared back into the castle, leaving the chairman to a few final moments with the desert sunset before he left to meet his aides.

A few hours after Delaz's sunset meeting with Edgar, the chairman stood by the helm of his executive boat, under a star-filled night sky, flanked on one side by a thin, elegant-looking young man named Raphael, who served as Delaz's chief aide.

"Did you enjoy your little bonding moment with King Edgar?" he asked with a subtle grin.

"Of course," Delaz answered with his own grin, "Edgar is a good man. I only hope I can be that kind of leader someday."

"I wouldn't doubt it," said Raphael, "Your popular support has been overwhelming over these past few years. Even with the bi-yearly elections, I think you'll be in this office for quite some time."

"It's not the tenure, Raphael… I could be Chairman my entire life, but it wouldn't matter. Even if I lose this election next month already, I simply want to have a positive impact on our people."

"I don't doubt that you have already, Mr. Chairman," offered Raphael, "And for what it's worth, I think next month's election will be another landslide in your favor. I wouldn't trouble yourself with these things now, though. Why don't you get some rest? We should be docking in Albrook in just another hour or two."

Delaz was about to speak again, but his helmsman addressed him first from the bridge.

"Mr. Chairman!" he called out in a shout, "There's another vessel approaching us quickly from the mainland. Doesn't look like one of ours, though, shall we hail her?"

"Go ahead," ordered Delaz, pacing back to the helmsman and standing beside him, "She's probably just a merchant ship."

Behind Delaz, one of the crewman began flashing a bright light mounted on a post, hailing the other ship's attention. The boat remained silent, however, offering no indication of a response.

"That's curious," Delaz said idly, "Try again."

Again, the crewman flashed the hailing light toward the boat. This time, they saw a light coming from it. It didn't seem like a hailing light, however. It came from lower on the ship's hull, and was a flaming red color.

"Sir, that looks like-" The helmsman didn't have time to finish. It soon became apparent that the blazing red light was a weapon, and it struck the ship head-on, setting the bow on fire and rocking the boat violently.

"We're under attack!" Delaz shouted, "All hands, to your battle stations! Return fire immediately!" On his command, the boat began to turn, bringing her broadside to face the oncoming vessel. The enemy ship, however, continued to tear through the water at full speed, moving straight for their ship.

"Fire cannons!" barked a commanding Delaz. With a thunderous roar, the cannons along the ship's side spat out a line of heavy cannonballs toward their enemy. Most of the balls were off target, since the approaching ship's front side left a narrow target. One ball grazed the ship's side, but didn't appear to cause any significant damage.

Moments later, another bright red flash struck Delaz's ship, setting another series of fires that began to spread across the deck.

"We're being boarded!" came the frantic cry of one crewman. Sure enough, the enemy vessel careened into the side of their boat, and several wooden ramps were dropped from the ship's bow onto Delaz's deck.

"Everyone, abandon your stations and draw your swords! The fight is on deck!" Diaz shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing the heavy sword from its scabbard and holding it in one hand at his side. Just hours ago, he had reflected on the weapon as a simple formality. Now, here he was, ready to fight with it.

"Enemy on deck!" cried another crewman. Down the ramp came a number of imposing armored figures, carrying narrow blades. They cut down several crewmen as they came, casting aside the bodies of those who tried to impede their march.

One of them approached Delaz, and he immediately noticed something peculiar about his adversary. His armor was sturdy, but very compact. On closer inspection, he came to realize that there wasn't anyone in the armor – it was moving by itself! What he had assumed to be a sword was actually a blade embedded in the armored creature's forearm, and he soon found it being swung at his head. Delaz was able to duck the blow, and swing his mighty sword up over his head, bringing the weapon crashing down on the thing's shoulder, drawing a diagonal cut that severed the monstrosity in two.

"They're like some sort of robotic creatures!" said Raphael, shouting over the chaos on the deck. He came beside Delaz, holding a narrow rapier in his right hand.

"So it seems," Delaz said with a nod, advancing toward the boarding ramps. He and Raphael fought close to one another, cutting down the robotic invaders as they came. Their crew did not fare quite so well, however, as many of them were struck down quickly, their bodies cast overboard into the sea. Despite the valiant efforts of Delaz and Raphael, the two men soon found themselves surrounded by the grey-armored robots, with over a dozen blades pointed their way. The two men stood back-to back, blades still drawn, eyeing their enemies cautiously.

"It seems fate's caught up with us," Raphael said grimly.

"Indeed it has," came a man's voice. The circle around the two parted, and an older man with gray hair stepped into view, dressed in light armor and a grey overcoat. "I hope you've enjoyed your tenure, Mr. Chairman, because I intend to end your term tonight."

"Golan," sneered Delaz, "I knew I should have had you taken care of the first time you started causing trouble."

"Yes, I suppose you should have," Golan replied with a twisted smile, his green eyes twinkling with a sinister amusement, "But it looks like you missed your chance."

"Did we?" Raphael quickly lunged forward, thrusting his rapier straight for Golan's throat. Defying the appearance of his age, Golan leaned easily to one side to avoid the thrust and grabbed Raphael's arm, twisting it and forcing the man to his knees as the sword fell from his hand.

"Raphael!" Delaz moved to help his friend, swinging his own blade toward Golan. He never made it that far, however, and he quickly felt the narrow blade of one of Golan's robotic soldiers cutting into his chest. Delaz's blade joined Raphael's on the ground, and the wounded chairman staggered back toward the edge of the boat, leaning on the rail for support as blood trickled down his chest.

"I should have expected as much from you," smirked Golan, walking toward Delaz, "You're a very stubborn man, after all. But that won't save you here, Mr. Chairman… Nothing will."

"You bastard," Delaz growled, clutching his wounded chest with one hand, "You'll pay for this… If not by my hand, then by someone else's."

"Oh, certainly not by yours… Or your devoted aide's, either." Golan gave a simple nod, and the robot nearest to Raphael lowered its arm swiftly, severing the aide's head with a single motion.

"No!" Delaz screamed in agony as he watched his friend fall lifeless to the deck. In a fit of rage, he lunged at Golan again, but to no avail. The older man simply grabbed onto Delaz's arm, swung him back toward the rail, and hurled him over the edge. Delaz quickly grabbed onto the rail with one hand, the other still holding onto his bleeding chest.

"So you fight it all the way to the bitter end, do you?" chided Golan, "Well this is the bitter end for you, I'm afraid. Enjoy your afterlife." With a final arrogant smirk, Golan chopped his hand down onto Delaz's. The chairman lost his grip and fell with one last agonized cry into the waves.


End file.
